Six Forty-Three
by 263Adder
Summary: A day in the life of Vanya Hargreeves, the only normal child in the Umbrella Academy. A sequel to 'Experiment 5068' and 'March Thirteenth'. Then and Now series: Part 3.
1. Sunday

Seven turned her head to regard her alarm clock forlornly. It wasn't time to get up. It hadn't been the last one thousand times she had checked throughout the night, and it still wasn't now.

The dragging minute hand, which lingered between three and four, seemed determined to torment her so she turned her head away once more and returned to finding patterns in the ceiling. The shadows were making some interesting patterns, including one which looked a bit like a rabbit if she relaxed her eyes enough.

She stared until she finally felt that it must be nearly seven o'clock. Risking a glance, she saw the hand had travelled the distance between three and six.

Unable to contain herself, Seven groaned aloud – how had it only been three minutes? Turning to face the wall she buried her head in the pillow and willed her body to finally surrender to sleep. Even if now she would only be allowed fourteen minutes.

"What's wrong?"

Her head shot back up.

"_Five_?"

"Yeah, are you all right?" Five asked through their shared wall.

She was glad of its presence, her cheeks now burning. Sunday was their one day to lie in; of course she ruined it.

"I'm _so_ sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." She breathed back, pressing her face against the wall to be heard.

An unexpected pop made her bang her forehead in surprise.

"Ow."

"Well I guess I have my answer now." Five said, pulling her away from the wall. "Let me look."

He parted her fringe and, after running his fingers over Seven's forehead, reassured her there was no bump.

"Someone should put a bell on you." Seven grumbled, trying to straighten her hair with her fingers – well aware it looked like a bird's nest after a night of restless tossing and turning.

Five just grinned back, no sign of remorse, while Seven nervously fidgeted.

She'd been waiting hours for the morning to arrive, where she could finally escape the half-formed nightmares that started every time she tried to close her eyes. Now she was no longer alone, which was all she'd wanted, and yet she didn't know what to do.

"I _am_ sorry." She said, clarifying when Five frowned at her. "For waking you up."

"I don't care." He shrugged. "The alarm is going off in a minute, anyway. But why were _you_ up – couldn't you sleep again? Why didn't you go get Six?"

She sighed, kicking her feet out from under her blankets. "You saw him yesterday, he was exhausted."

Six had been subjected to one-to-one training yesterday. From what she could decipher of his yawned out descriptions it had involved trying to summon different creatures. Seven didn't understand what that meant, but the dark circles under his eyes sent a clear message he needed to be left alone for a while.

"Then why didn't you come get me?"

Seven blinked at him, her surprise at his question prompting an unusual act of blunt honesty from her: "I didn't know I could."

She was even more surprised when Five appeared to be hurt by her confession.

"I know no one is going to be handing me a 'Best Brother Ever' trophy any time soon, but I didn't think I was _that_ bad."

Her blush returned tenfold and she hastened to reassure him.

"I – I just meant – you're a private person. You don't like people. _I mean_, you don't like people going into your room." She said, stumbling through her reasoning.

Seven had never crossed the threshold of Five's room. She certainly hadn't considered doing it for the first time in the middle of the night just because she couldn't deal with some silly nightmares on her own. If the thought had crossed her mind last night, which it hadn't, Seven would have expected to be yelled at rather than encouraged.

It had taken several nights before she'd found the courage to go to Six for the first time, and he was her mellowest sibling who had sought her out at least half a dozen times before she did the same. Even though Five was the nicest to her out of everyone in the house – except perhaps Pogo – she'd experienced him sleep deprived before. His already notoriously short temper would get shorter. Five was not someone she wanted to get on the bad side of, but not because she was afraid of being yelled at. Honestly she was almost immune to that nowadays. She just couldn't bear the thought of losing the one member of the Umbrella Academy who always seemed willing to tolerate her.

The one who was now staring at her like she had lost her mind.

Maybe she had, although she had the defence she was sleep deprived.

"Yeah – _people_. You can come into my room." Five stated, talking slowly like she was three years old instead of thirteen.

The hallway alarm sounded; Five paused until it finished.

"The next time you can't sleep come and wake me up. Unless you'd rather go to Six?" He asked with a raise of the eyebrows.

Seven shook her head, her eyes wide and unbelieving.

"Good." Five said, standing up. "I better get dressed. See you at breakfast."

He teleported back to his room. They weren't allowed in each other's rooms outside their recreation hours, and Father would be unhappy if they were found together.

Seven stayed in bed for a moment before the sound of One and Two fighting to be the first in the bathroom prompted her to move. She'd never been late to the dinner table and, after seeing Four go without food for the day, was determined not to undergo the same punishment for tardiness.

Especially not on a Sunday when Mom always made pancakes.

She silently followed her siblings' downstairs once they were all clean and dressed, the six clustered together chatting amongst themselves while she trailed behind.

They took their assigned places, Seven stuck in the dreaded spot opposite Father, and waited for permission to take their seats.

Another lecture droned on in the background as they started their meal. Seven took care to remain as quiet as possible as Father hated anyone making noise while the records were playing. Even her cutlery noiselessly cut through her food while her siblings' clanked against their plates and set their glasses back down too heavily on the table. She hoped they displayed more stealth when they were out on a mission.

Glancing to her right she watched Six's eyes droop, his head bending heavily over his plate before abruptly snapping up again. Four didn't look much better beside him, his skin pale and eyes bloodshot. The two had bunked together last night but evidentially failed to stave off their respective nightmares.

Seven turned her concerned eyes away from her brothers only to find Five's own worried gaze on her. She supposed she probably didn't look much better for wear than the other two. She had two dark circles under her eyes and was slumped in her chair, instead of sitting at her usual state of attention. Her hair had been untameable after such a restless night so she had pulled it back into a rare ponytail.

He watched her pick at her food, shooting a pointed glare at her plate when she met his eyes.

With a silent sigh, she tucked into her breakfast with slightly more enthusiasm. She only had half the number of pancakes her siblings' did, more than enough for her. After all, it wasn't like she worked up much of an appetite playing the violin and reading all day.

Silently setting her knife and fork upon her plate she leaned back in her chair, joining the rest of her siblings in waiting for their Father's dismissal. On Sundays, when the Umbrella Academy's training sessions were more relaxed, he would make them wait until the entirety of the recorded lecture was finished before excusing them. Unless he had cooked up some new training exercise they needed to start early for – which, for her siblings' sake, she hoped he hadn't.

Two was mindlessly tapping his fingers as he waited, One sending him annoyed looks over the table. Three was trying to scrape as much remaining syrup off her plate as she could. Four and Six were investing all of their energies into not passing out in their seats; Five giving them a kick whenever they appeared to be losing that battle.

Seven watched them all silently. No one was interested in the lecture. She wasn't even a hundred percent sure what it was about. It was a futile exercise of their Father's; if even Number One wouldn't listen to them how could he think any of them ever would?

Her eyes glassed over, head thunking lightly against the top of her chair as she leaned back into it.

"Dismissed." Father barked suddenly, catching Seven off guard. He had finished his own meal: oatmeal. He had it every Sunday, often left plain.

Seven's chair was the only one not to scrape against the floor as they all rose.

On a Sunday the Umbrella Academy were to report to the training room for two hours of light practice before lunch. Usually they then got to spend the afternoon as they wished, commonly holed up together downstairs playing games or split off into their smaller groups.

Seven would read or play her violin, often alone but sometimes with Mom for company, in her room or the library for most of the day. Perhaps today Five would ask her to play for him again, or Six might join her in the library. Sometimes he liked to sit in there with her when the others got too rowdy.

They parted ways in the foyer, Seven not even noticing her closest numbers trying to wave a little as they parted, beelining for the staircase. She didn't feel like playing the violin at that moment, given how tired she was she'd just end up butchering anything she tried to perform and disturb the others.

Getting back to her room she discovered a new book on her nightstand which must have come from Six. He often leant her his books once he was finished with them. Six was the only one to ask Father for books (unless you counted the textbooks Five requested, which Seven most certainly didn't) and, as he contributed to the household, he was usually granted them. Pogo often chose the titles although Six would sometimes request something specific.

Glancing at the title she saw it was another Huxley; Six must have enjoyed Brave New World too.

Hopping onto her bed, she leaned back. Flipping past this edition's introductions – Seven always saved those for last – she got to the first page and started reading. It was a good way to spend a day, immersing herself in another world. Pretending she was anywhere other than the Academy. Except she couldn't get into it, perhaps as it was a series of essays rather than a novel. A shame as the promise of music in the title had held promise to the aspiring violinist.

Glancing back at the contents page she skipped forward to the next essay hoping it would spark more interest. As they were more factual than fictional she might be able to convince Five to give it a go when she was finished, which encouraged her to persist with it. The last time she had convinced him to read fiction she had made the mistake of offering Six's copy of Pride and Prejudice which was, in retrospect, too flowery for Five. Unfortunately, despite now having created a long list of books which he would likely enjoy, Five was adamant he was sticking to non-fiction from then on out; an ever present pile of mathematics, philosophy and science books taking up residence beside his bed. Seven wished he would give fiction another go – Five was often given books by Father and, if she could get him into literature, she could request books through him which she would never get to read otherwise. She'd tried appealing to Six to request more gothic, mystery and thriller novels but after reading Dracula it had put him off the _darker_ genres.

At least there were a few books in the library that more closely aligned to her tastes, but her choices were limited. Well, her choices in everything were limited. From what she wore to who she could speak to. A few days ago Father had caught her giggling with Four over an interview her siblings' had given with a teen magazine and scolded her for 'distracting' her brother. What exactly she was supposed to have distracted him from, given he had already completed his training, she wasn't sure. Yet the stern gaze was enough to break up their conversation and sent Seven scampering back to her room.

In her thirteen years of life it felt like she had spent twelve of them inside the four beige walls of her bedroom. Five thought it wouldn't be so bad if she decorated a little but, even if she had the bedroom of a Queen of Versailles, staying in one room for so many hours a day did little for the mind and soul.

Dropping the book back down on the bed, Seven decided the others would now be sufficiently distracted with training to enable her to freely wander the halls. She could see what Pogo and Mom were doing – provided they hadn't been roped into assisting with training – and walk around some of the rooms.

Moving with care down the hallway, she prided herself on how quietly she could move. Years of attempting to blend into the scenery had given Seven a wealth of knowledge about the house: knowing which floorboards creaked and how far she could open a certain door before the hinges would squeak. There was no getting around the cameras that spied on them throughout the day and night, however she knew Father and Pogo couldn't monitor them constantly and was fairly confident about what hours of the day she could get away with exploring.

On expeditions like this she always liked to imagine she was a spy, tiptoeing around some secret base for clues. It was a game she told no one else about – knowing that to the real heroes in her life such a revelation would make her seem like a pathetic dreamer. She still enjoyed it though; it gave her an opportunity to play and move around.

Hurrying across the landing, Seven peeked in Pogo's bedroom. She'd been in there before and had always found the pictures he'd taken of biology microscope slides fascinating. Scientific but also artistic, she liked that. He'd once taken her around them all and told her what image each represented. Her favourite showed a plant cell – it was several shades of pink and purple, large looking bubbles pressed tightly against each other.

Opening his door a fraction wider (unlike the children's doors which were kept well oiled, Pogo's had a persistent squeak in the top hinge which she needed to be wary of) Seven side-stepped into the room. Softly closing the door behind her, she skulked into the room.

If she believed Father would give her the resources to decorate her room, not that she had ever asked, Seven would most like to style it after Pogo's. All the colours were soft and inviting. The furniture was a dark wood, but all the blankets and pillows were in shades of green and blue. She would leave the objects preserved in formalin however; she wasn't even a hundred percent sure what it contained, her face contorting in disgust when Pogo tried to explain what specimens he had preserved in the jars.

Choosing to look over his bed, Seven read the titles of his degrees. It surprised her that Father had enabled Pogo to have such a thorough education – to the extent he had gained a doctorate. It made her wonder, as she had no future in the crime fighting world, if he might pay for her to have a college education someday. Whether he would hold a degree in music in the same regard as one in biology seemed unlikely, however he always seemed to appreciate a pursuit of knowledge. The few occasions he had viewed Seven positively was when he acknowledged the dedication she put into mastering the violin. In fact the other week he had almost complemented her when she was playing Beethoven's Violin Concerto in D Major.

Not with words per se, but she was sure he smiled. A little.

Backing out of the room, Seven wondered if she could see what Mom was cooking for dinner without being spotted.

Sticking to the left-hand side of the stairs, she crept downstairs taking care not to tread on the ninth step which always groaned near the middle of the board.

She could vaguely hear her siblings' voices now she was on the first floor but she was confident they were far too busy to wonder where she was and she could pass by with ease.

Keeping her head down and sticking to the darker side of the hallway, Seven passed the open door without glancing in the six's direction – as if the very weight of her gaze could be enough to give her away. That meant she couldn't be certain no one had seen her but there was no break in the conversation so it was likely they hadn't. Even if they had, she couldn't imagine anyone wondering what she was doing outside of her room.

Grace was leaning over the counter rolling out pastry as Seven hovered in the doorway. They always left the kitchen door open; it seemed their pseudo mother was doomed to never have privacy in her domains.

She caught of a whiff of fish and grimaced; Mom was making a fish pie again. Words could not express how much Seven hated fish pie.

"Seven, dear. Are you hungry?" Mom asked, her back still turned to her.

She tried to repress a sigh. Obviously she had gotten caught. At least in her defence Mom was an artificial being, perhaps harder to sneak up on than the average human.

"No, Mom. I just wanted to stretch my legs a bit."

"All right. Do you want to help me make cookies?"

Shrugging, Seven agreed. While Grace may not be capable of the most stimulating conversation, she was preferable to being alone.

"Why don't you get the recipe and measure out the dry ingredients while I finish the pie?"

Pulling out cook book, Seven flipped ahead to the recipe they usually used together. Grabbing the flour, sugar and baking soda, she paused next to the fruit bowl.

"Mom?"

"Yes, dear?"

Seven held up an orange. "What do you think about putting orange zest in? For a change?"

Mom's head titled minutely as she processed the suggestion. "That sounds lovely, Number Seven."

Smiling happily to herself, Seven measured everything out. With the dry ingredients mixed, she grabbed the grater and took off a fine layer of the orange skin. After a moment's thought she cut the orange in half and juiced a little, thinking she could substitute the vanilla extract for the juice to make the orange flavour stronger.

Mom joined her as she added the wet ingredients, taking the knife to cut a chocolate bar into chunks. Seven always thought it tasted better that way than using store bought chips, something Mom had started to do for her after she voiced that preference.

Now if only she could work up the confidence to tell her how little she cared for fish pie, perhaps she could break Mom's delusion it was her favourite.

When the cookies went in the oven, Mom sent her back on her way with a promise to call her when they were ready. Seven wanted to try one before everyone else; if her idea hadn't worked, she didn't want them to taste it. Ruining their dessert would only become another thing they blamed her for.

The siblings would wrap up for lunch soon, they were usually given a short window to freshen up before heading back to the dining room. Glancing at the clock, Seven decided it was too much of a risk trying to sneak around again and went upstairs to pick up her violin. Moving around had perked her up and she no longer felt like she would play terribly.

Sticking to one of her favourites (mainly because she loved to say the Germanic title aloud), Seven allowed herself to fall into the piece and could largely drown out the sound of her siblings running up the stairs.

Three was grumbling about something as she passed her door. Although Seven could feel the pin of her glare, Three said nothing to make her stop playing again. Several others went by without stopping.

Five entered her room, flopping down on the bed. He did that sometimes, keeping his arm over his eyes as he laid there. The first few times it had made Seven abruptly stop playing until Five requested that she continue; apparently he found the music relaxing after the chaos of team practice. Nowadays she had gotten used to his presence and knew not to stop. Five was hardly someone who would be subtle if something were bothering him; if training had gone badly, he would have ranted about it the moment he crossed the threshold instead of patiently waiting for her to finish the piece.

Focusing on her sheet music, Seven played until Mom called for her attention.

Jabbing Five with the bow as she passed, making him smile, she reminded him he only had twenty minutes to get ready for lunch before rushing off.

Mom beckoned her into the kitchen, offering her one of the cookies for approval. It was lucky their Father wasn't around – he would never condone sweets before a main meal.

"Mmm." Seven mumbled around her first bite. "That tastes quite nice."

"Excellent. I'll hand them out after lunch." Mom said, offering her usual beaming smile. She turned back to the meal, her pink skirt fanning out as she twisted. Seven knew Mother's unearthly beauty sometimes made Three feel insecure but she never could quite stop seeing Grace's clear lack of humanity. They designed her to be their one source of guaranteed love in the household but being sat in her arms sometimes felt more like being caged than reassured.

At other times however, she seemed the most relatable to Seven in the household. Always on the periphery, expected to do everything asked of her without ever being asked what she would like. That was if Mom could even make decisions on her own.

The pills she was constantly reminded her to take made her feel like Mom too; always numb and easily confused. She admitted there were times she considered stopping taking them but there was always a small edge of fear to that thought which stopped her from following through.

Heading to the dining room, figuring there wasn't much point returning upstairs with so little time to spare, Seven stood behind her customary chair and waited to be joined by the others.

Two came in first, his hair still damp. He took his place on Father's left-hand side, failing to even glance in her direction.

One surprisingly came in alone, he was always with Three nowadays, and took his seat opposite Two.

"Fun session today." One said with a grin, trying to provoke Number Two.

"You're lucky I didn't slice your fat head off." Two snapped back.

"Like you could."

"Oh I could."

"Knock it off would you." Three said, walking into the room to stand beside One. She didn't look happy with either of her brothers. "We're supposed to be a team."

One looked at Three unhappily while Two now wore the triumphant smile.

Seven never understood what Father's intentions were; if he were trying to make them into an effective team why did he spur such fierce competition amongst them all? One of these days all of their attempts to one up one another could only lead to someone getting hurt, and she worried on that day Mom's medical functions wouldn't be enough to fix the damage.

Four kept a wary gaze on Six as they walked in together. Six looked about to ready to fall to his knees. They were sat next to each other, all the even numbers on Father's left and all the odds on his right – divided just like their bedrooms.

Five was the last to arrive, the only one to greet Seven.

"Mozart?" He asked, referring to the piece she played earlier.

Seven nodded. His recognition of classical music was getting better. "Eine Kleine Nachtmusik."

"Gesundheit." Four muttered under his breath as their Father walked in.

"It was good." Five whispered as the tape was started.

Seven listened this time, it was about navigation.

"Be seated." Father commanded, taking his own.

Grace served the pie between them once they were settled.

Several sets of eyes swivelled in her direction as they were given their lunch, knowing it was Seven's fault they were all eating fish pie. At least she knew Four liked it, but then Four liked anything. And Two would never let her say a word against it, always the most worried about Mom's feelings even when most of them were convinced she had none.

Five just smirked and Seven had to quash a returning smile.

They all ate dutifully, cleaning their plates even if they had to sip their water more frequently throughout the meal than they usually did.

When they were finished, Seven helped collect the plates while Mom instructed the children to go down to the kitchen. Father didn't question the request, used to Grace providing them with baked treats. Given the regularity of the six's workouts they hardly needed to watch their calorie intake.

Joining them downstairs, Seven watched them all tuck into the plate of cookies. The praise was automatically going Mom.

"It was Seven who did all the work. She even thought to add orange to the mixture." Grace deflected, moving to start washing the dishes which Two offered to help with.

"Tastes good Ven." Four complimented, swallowing half of his second cookie in one bite. "Maybe you should become a chef."

She shook her head. "Knowing me I'd just chop off a finger."

"That won't do, then you wouldn't be able to become a world-famous violinist." Six said, taking another cookie.

Seven went over to his side, leaning forward to grab a cookie for herself. She nudged Six as she moved, asking under her breath: "Are you all right?"

"Just tired V. Don't worry about me."

She always worried. There was no pill on the planet powerful enough to stop that since the day they put on those domino masks.

Taking a seat next to Five, who was too busy eating to make any comments (a rare occurrence indeed), Seven pulled her cookie apart into smaller chunks and considered variations she could make to the recipe. Or maybe she could ask Mom to help her make a lemon tart next time. It was her real favourite, not fish pie, though she doubted anyone else knew that.

"Thanks for the cookies, Seven." Three said happily as she walked out of the kitchen alone, calling Seven's attention away from her food. Something had definitely happened in training between the lower numbers though it was likely nothing more than over-inflated egos and typical sibling rivalry.

Looking back down at her pile of cookie crumbs she realised it looked smaller than it had a second ago and turned a suspicious stare on Four who was resolutely not meeting her eyes.

"Come on Six, you look like you could use a nap." Four said, pulling Six up by the arm.

"Huh?" Six spluttering crumbs as he spoke with a full mouth. He grabbed onto the table to stop Four from successfully pulling him to his feet. "No, I want to stay with the cookies."

"Hey Four, want to play darts?" Two asked, Four eagerly agreeing.

One sat looking surly as he watched Two and Four leave before glancing at Three's empty seat. With a sigh he grabbed another cookie and left the room. Seven didn't watch him go, not seeing how he suddenly caught himself in the doorway to turn back.

"Hey, Seven. Thanks by the way – they taste good."

"Oh, you're welcome Number One. But it was Mom's suggestion." She said, turning around to give him a timid smile.

One headed back upstairs.

"Are you playing this afternoon, Seven?" Six asked, leaning back in his chair.

"I'm not sure." Seven hesitated. Usually she waited to see what the six's plans were before making any of her own.

"Come on, let's all go to the library." Five decided for them.

"Have fun children." Mom supplied, still diligently washing dishes.

Five leaned into Seven's side as they walked down the hallway and lowered his voice. "Pick something boring which will send him to sleep would you?"

"If you want to send him to sleep _you'd_ better pick something." Seven retorted, the sting of her words undermined as she hid behind a curtain of hair.

Five snorted in amusement, heading for the engineering section of the library while Seven ushered Six onto a sofa.

Five's plan worked perfectly, so well in fact that Seven also ended up nodding off until the tap of their Father's cane instantly set them all on alert. Six had fallen asleep with his head lolled back on the edge of the couch, mouth wide open as he lightly snored. Seven was dozing against his leg while Five sat in the armchair reading aloud to them – the only one to find the book remotely interesting. With the sound of Father's approach Six and Seven sat up straight in their chairs, detangling from one another and pretended to be listening intently to Five's explanation of Bernoulli's principle.

Father nodded approvingly, believing they genuinely were interested in learning about fluid dynamics, and carried on his way.

"Oh god," Six groaned, "he's going to test us on this now. _Five_?"

With an exaggerated sigh, Five said: "Bernoulli's principle states that the speed of a fluid – for example if we look at this from an aeronautical application we could use air – determines the amount of pressure a fluid can exert."

He paused when he saw his siblings' eyes glaze over.

"This would be so much simpler if you understood Newton's first and third laws of motion."

Six and Seven looked at each other.

"I should have chose the book." Seven said solemnly.

Five dismissed their concerns "He won't expect you two to understand it, anyway. If it comes up, I'll say I was asking you to test me once I'd finished the chapter."

"Great. Five gets the homework." Six sighed with relief. "I'm going for a nap upstairs – don't let me miss dinner."

"I won't." Seven promised, watching Six go.

"Are you going to keep reading that?"

"I'll just add it to the pile upstairs." Five said. He pulled out a pocket notebook and tore out a blank page to use as a bookmark. "What are you reading?"

"Music at Night – another Aldous Huxley. But it's essays this time. You might enjoy it." She attempted.

"If it's anything like Pride and Prejudice, I bet I won't." Five dismissed.

"How very prejudicial of you." Seven teased. "But it's nothing like that. One of the essays is called Sermons in Cats."

"Hmm, you can tell me about it when you're finished." He said, standing to stretch. "I think I'll go back to the training room for a while, I'm trying to jump faster and I want to give it another go."

"Oh, okay." She said, keeping her face clear. "I'll see you later then."

Five wandered out of the room, leaving Seven alone again. She only allowed herself to feel sad about that for a short moment before forcing herself to get back up. If she always gave into that feeling she would never get up again, then her Father really would give up all hope in her.

She scouted the library shelves again, determined to find something. Something interesting, something that could take her mind off that hollowness inside that made life feel futile. There had to be something here that could do that. Something apart from books on thermodynamics, mountaineering, deep-sea diving, botany, battle strategy, vulcanology and existentialism.

"Number Seven?"

Startled, she nearly toppled from the ladder she'd climbed to peruse the top of the shelves, but grabbed the rail for balance in the nick of time.

"Pogo?"

Moving closer, she could see his frown of concern. She didn't enjoy seeing that expression directed at her; it felt like a failure somehow.

"Are you looking for something?"

"I-I wanted something new to read."

He came to stand at the bottom of the ladder. "Has Number Six not given you anything new?"

"No, he _has_." Seven said. "I just wanted something, I don't know. Different?"

She said the last word almost as a benediction. She didn't just want a different book, Seven wanted a different everything. A different home, a different life, a different family.

Right now she was settling for a book.

"What kind of book would you like?" Pogo asked patiently, looking up at her curiously.

"I liked Dracula, but Six didn't."

"Gothic. Hmm, well I think I can make some more suggestions."

Seven shrugged sadly. "It doesn't matter, Father will never get me any."

Pogo nodded slowly in agreement. Seven was the only sibling to never receive a 'gift' from Father. Well, anything non-standard. Given she contributed nothing to the household, Seven supposed everything from her clothes to the food she ate counted as gifts. It was unfair really to demand more.

"I'll just re-read Dracula." She said dejectedly, climbing down from the shelves. "No one else wants it."

Passing by Pogo, Seven returned to her room, firmly shutting the door behind her and read until dinner.

Their final meal of the day, a lovely bowl of beef casserole, passed by normally – although she noticed her siblings seemed far more energetic than the last two times they had gathered around the table. Perhaps an afternoon of relaxing had paid off. It was a shame Father didn't give them more time to themselves.

Seven was the only one who stopped to help Mom once the meal was over, the rest returning to their rooms or the communal areas.

With the lack of sleep catching up on her, Seven shut herself in for the night. She picked up Six's book and climbed under the blankets even though she was still in her uniform. She had just reached the point where Jonathan Harker describes how he had watched Dracula climb the walls of his castle, himself paralysed in fear as he realised the unnatural situation he had found himself in.

Maybe Six was right, the story was a bit spooky. Too spooky to read solely by her bedside lamp with evening closing in outside her window.

Standing up, she went over to the door to switch on the ceiling light when she heard the hushed voices of her siblings.

"Okay listen up." One said.

Seven pressed her ear against the door to listen, suspecting that if she opened the door she'd only be told to close it again.

"Dad and Pogo are going to some lecture tonight, Pogo said they wouldn't get back until early in the morning."

"And Mom's charging from eight." Two contributed.

"Once she does we'll meet in the foyer, but we have to be careful not to make any noise or she'll realise we're leaving."

"What about the cameras?" Six queried.

"There's nothing we can do about them." Two sighed. "Except to hope Dad doesn't watch the tapes back tomorrow."

"Which he shouldn't unless we make him suspicious of us." Three stated. "Which means _no_ getting caught."

"Why are you looking at me?" Four asked.

"I'm not looking at you, I'm looking at everyone."

"It feels like you're looking at me."

"Eight o'clock, everyone." One restated.

"What about Seven?"

It was the first time Five had spoken.

"No way, Seven will make too much noise." Two said, squishing the suggestion. "Three just said we can't get caught."

Seven pulled away from the door then, no longer interested in listening. She didn't think there was a likelihood of her hearing anything particularly nice.

Sticking to her bedside lamp, Seven got back under the covers and resigned herself to a lonely evening. It was a surprise, therefore, when there was a small tap on her door a little while later.

"Seven?" Three asked, peering into the dim room.

Abruptly sitting up, Seven hastened to welcome Three in. She could barely remember a time Three had ever come into her room. Of course she chose that moment – when it was only seven o'clock and she was already in bed. No wonder they all thought she was boring.

"Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, just doing some reading." Seven explained, holding up Six's book.

"Oh. Is it any good?" Three enquired, moving to take a tentative seat on the end of the bed. She'd closed the door behind her.

"Mm hm." She nodded. "I really like it. I don't think Six did though, he thought it was too 'dark'."

Three glanced behind her before sighing. "Look, the rest of us are planning to go out tonight. Four found this place he wants to show us – do you want to come too?"

Seven looked at the door too. She was fairly certain she knew who was standing behind it.

She offered a pleasant smile. "Thank you, Number Three. But I think I'd rather keep reading this. Have a nice time though."

Three was surprised by her response. "If you're sure?"

Why inflict her company on them; they didn't want her.

"Yeah – absolutely. You guys have fun."

"Okay." Three said, offering a broad grin before skipping out of the room.

Seven closed her eyes as the bright light from the hallway crossed her face, before the door shut again leaving her to her peace.

For all of Two's talk that she couldn't stay quiet, it wasn't hard to hear when the six left the house – but then again she had always had good hearing. Between the hushed conversations, creaking floorboards, doors shut too heavily and the small disturbance made when someone tripped down the last few steps, it seemed that Seven's anxieties about her siblings' safety on missions was not entirely misplaced.

Not wanting to listen to their return, to the stories of inevitable happiness that accompanied her absence, Seven switched off her light and burrowed into bed with the covers pulled over her head. It seemed to work, muffling everything around her. It was harder to muffle her brain however, her imagination working on overtime to produce an array of fun scenarios her siblings' could have participated in that evening, and it took what felt like hours to drift off into a fitful night's sleep.

Tomorrow was going to be a long day, she idly considered as she turned over again. Her sheets were getting tangled from all the movement but she couldn't get comfortable, and with her blankets pulled up she felt too warm.

Abruptly the sheets were pulled back, and she nearly shrieked at the sight of Five standing over her, managing to muffle her cry with her pillow.

"Five!" She gasped. "You scared me!"

"Sorry! Sorry, I wanted to check in as I went past." He apologised. "To see if you were sleeping all right?"

"I _was_." Seven grumbled, not meeting his eyes – instead focusing on rearranging her bedding.

Five was right – she was a terrible liar.

"Hmm." He muttered, sitting down next to her. She scooched over to give him some space. "Why didn't you come with us tonight? You would have had fun."

"Didn't feel like it." She shrugged.

"Oh, come on, Seven. Don't keep doing this." He moaned.

"What?"

"Hiding away in here. You could have come with us – Three asked you didn't she? And _he's _not here to tell you that you can't go."

"Why would I go somewhere I'm not wanted?" Seven asked, almost incredulously.

"I wanted you there." Five sniffed haughtily.

"Five." Seven said softly. "I like spending time with you. You're my favourite."

"You're mine too..."

"But," she cut him short, "I _know_ I'm not everyone else's. In fact for a few of them I know I'm their _least_ favourite."

Five shook his head angrily. "If Two has said something else to you, I swear to..."

"He _hasn't_." Seven whispered.

Well, he'd said nothing particularly stinging of late so it was mostly the truth.

"...and it's not exactly breaking news that the majority of them hold joint first for most idiotic on my list."

"I know." Seven smiled. "But you're a team and you _have_ to get along. I'm fine staying behind while you all go and have fun as a group."

Five called it. "Bullshit. No one likes getting left behind – if we did that to one of _them_ we'd hear about it for months."

"You can take me sometime." She reasoned. "Now do you think I can get some sleep?"

"Do _you_?" Five asked. "You know I was serious this morning, I'll stay if you're having trouble sleeping."

"I'm not." Seven stated, hiding behind her fringe.

"I'll just go change and then I'll be back." He continued, not even acknowledging her attempt at dishonesty.

Seven watched him disappear then flopped back onto her pillow. The promise of his return was enough to already start lulling her to sleep; she didn't even hear him re-enter the room.

"I'm setting your alarm for six-thirty so I have time to get back to my room." He informed her, picking up the clock from her bedside table.

"Okay."

She pressed herself up against the cool wall so Five would have plenty of space.

"Hey, Five?"

"Yes, Seven." He said, settling down beside her.

She asked her question hesitantly, worried the answer would hurt. "Where did you all go tonight?"

"To this diner Four spotted on the drive home last week, it's open all night."

"Don't you need money for that?"

"Three rumoured the waitress." Five said disapprovingly. "I think she's getting a little too liberal about using her power. It'll blow up in her face one day. Especially if she ever tries that shit on me."

"Has she ever rumoured you?" Seven asked curiously.

"Not since we were younger." He replied, pausing as he noticed the tiny sliver of bed she was occupying; once again trying to make her already tiny body shrink even more. Tugging on her arm he pulled her away from the wall to settle more firmly by his side. "Once she rumoured me to be quiet and it took three days before Dad made her undo it. I think he enjoyed it." Five recounted bitterly. "He loves her power – sees all kinds of potential in it. I hope it backfires on him someday. _Soon_."

"Do you think Three ever rumoured Dad?"

"Maybe – when she was younger. I don't think she'd ever have the guts to do it now though." He replied before changing the subject. "I brought you a donut back by the way, but I figured you'd rather have it tomorrow."

Seven turned to beam at him although there was no way he could see that in the darkness. "Thank you, Five."

"You're welcome, Seven. Go to sleep now."

She settled down when a tap at the door disturbed them.

"Hey, Seven." Six said, letting himself in. "Are you awake?"

"We are now." Five grumbled, keeping his eyes shut.

"_Five_?"

"Six, are you all right?" Seven asked.

"Yeah, I just..." Six faltered, changing his mind. "I brought you a donut since you missed out."

"Oh, Five already got me one. You can keep yours if you want."

"No, I had way too many. I don't think I can even stand to look at it now." Six said, blindly crossing the room to leave the offering on her dresser. "I'll let you two sleep."

"Are you sure you're okay, Six?" Seven pressed, even as Five tried to tug her back down. Maybe Six couldn't sleep again – and if Four wasn't there for him then maybe she should...

"Go to sleep, Six. You too Seven." Five ordered. "We've got lessons tomorrow – next time we shouldn't go on a Sunday."

"Right. Goodnight, guys." Six mumbled, closing the door behind him.

"That was rude, I should go talk to him." Seven tried.

"Just because I said you were my favourite earlier doesn't mean I can't go off you." Five muttered, laying an arm over Seven's waist to stop her getting up.

Half a second passed before his eyes opened and he looked at her seriously, cutting off an internal flow of panic. "That was me joking, I won't get sick of you for having a different opinion. Okay?"

"Okay." Seven breathed. "Five?"

"Yes, Seven?"

"Go to sleep now. We have classes tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Seven."

"Goodnight, Five." Seven replied, shutting her eyes and letting another day at the Academy come to a grateful end. 

* * *

I chose the book Music at Night because it has one of my all time favourite quotes (which I imagine Vanya would like too) - "After silence that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music." How beautiful is that?

I hope you all enjoyed this latest installation in the series, it may take me a while to post the next chapter (which will be set in the future as always in this series) especially if it ends up being 7k + like this one! Let me know your thoughts - I adore hearing from you all. Have a good weekend 3


	2. Monday

At half-past six, Vanya was nudging Five awake and telling him to get back to his own room before Grace made the rounds for the wake-up call. He dawdled like he usually did, always reluctant to get out of the warm bed, and didn't leave until close to quarter-to seven. By which time Vanya decided to just get up and start preparing for another day.

Sharing a bed with Five was a habit that persisted after their first week, before Five confronted her about her memories of the future. When they were still pretending everything was the way it had always been.

The early start meant she was the first in the toilet and she squeezed in a quick shower, quickly brushing her teeth when she got out, before scurrying back to her room to dress. She was back inside before the alarm went off and the others started arguing amongst themselves who was getting inside the bathrooms first.

Following breakfast on weekdays', the children had two hours of classes from eight until ten before they would separate for their individual tasks. The Umbrella Academy would go for training while Vanya went to complete her individual curriculum, composed of additional studies in English literature, geography and history alongside subjects only she studied: art, languages and music. Grace and Pogo typically led her in this, but today Pogo was assisting with training and Grace had allowed Vanya to go straight to instrument practice. Grace had been left confused by Vanya's inexplicable improvement in all of her studies (barring math) within the last month and her Mother was having to re-evaluate her lesson plans.

Vanya had been working upstairs in peace for only fifteen minutes, happy to be gifted a relatively unencumbered morning, when there was a knock at the door to her makeshift music room.

She glared at it for a moment before getting up to answer. She knew it was Pogo, his breathing was very distinctive from the average human. A few minutes earlier she had heard him plodding up the staircase and walking along the hall but kept hoping he would continue to his own room and leave her to her piano practice.

Evidentially not.

Plastering on a neutral mask, Vanya opened the door and looked into Pogo's eyes. She wondered if he could see the hatred lurking behind them. It took all of her willpower not to snap at him, instead she genially asked: "Yes, Pogo?"

"Master Hargreeves has requested your presence in the training room."

"Does he want me to time them again?" Vanya asked, confused by the request. On the occasions Reginald had recruited her to be his assistant someone informed her over the breakfast table or shortly after the meal, not while training was already in session.

"I am not sure Number Seven, as he seemed rather impatient, I did not ask." Pogo explained, gesturing to the hallway with his arm. "Let us not keep him waiting any longer than necessary."

Walking out of the room, her back rigid with distrust as she moved in front of him, Vanya led the way downstairs. Pogo was always half a step behind her and with every footfall that triggered a long creak from the floorboards the White Violin imagined using the sound to break him again. She didn't need to impale him on something this time, she had the power to kill him where he stood. Perhaps she could stop the heart she could audibly hear beating beneath his ribs. No one would ever know it wasn't a natural death. Reginald certainly wouldn't suspect meek, sedated Number Seven.

Except her siblings watched her like a hawk and any deviations from the original timeline would draw their suspicion onto her. While it somewhat relieved her that Five knew her amnesia was faked, she didn't dare let her hand slip to the others. Not until she felt capable of trusting them.

Perhaps several years from now.

Vanya flinched when Pogo laid a hand on her shoulder to lead her into the room, glad no one spotted the expression.

"Master Hargreeves." Pogo called, announcing her arrival.

"Number Seven." Reginald called, looking up from his notebook. Luther and Five stood beside him while the others carried out their individual tasks.

Allison was doing burpees while trying to encourage Klaus, who was at her side half-heartedly performing the same exercise looking steadily whiter and whiter as he grew more exhausted.

Diego and Ben were sparring, although she could see there was no heart behind the fight.

They needed to try harder, they only risked giving themselves away. And Five warned her they couldn't do that. It risked alerting his former employers they had entered their old time streams. An ignorance that kept them safe.

Five beckoned her over to his side and Vanya hastened to do so. While she was highly aware that against her the others might as well be armed with water balloons and rubber slingshots, the only time she felt close to being relaxed nowadays was when she was stood beside Number Five. And even he still made her feel uneasy.

How Reginald hadn't figured out yet that Five wasn't the same person anymore was beyond her. The boy she used to know so rarely emerged in the one present today. Five was level-headed, logical and frequently exasperated. Traits he had possessed in childhood, but his commonsensical characteristics back then were often disturbed by impatience (stemming from a not entirely misplaced sense of intellectual superiority), pride and a well-known short-temper. He was more guarded now; she couldn't ever imagine seeing this Five cry or stomp his feet. He didn't smile the same way. His grins were too sharp, teeth ready to bite rather than gleam. An already heightened sense of personal space had grown even stronger and he reacted strongly if anyone laid an unexpected hand on him. Sometimes he felt like a stranger. Other times it felt like they really were thirteen again.

Most days he felt like a gift, one she had cried for throughout her childhood after his disappearance. Back when she used to close her eyes every night to sleep and send out a wish, to someone, anywhere, that her best friend would come back to her and she would no longer have to be alone in that unforgiving house. He was back now but their rhythm was, understandably, shaken. There were no cautious smiles exchanged over a dining table, only weary glances. No shouts from another room in the house calling for her presence, only hushed conversations in quiet rooms.

Number Seven trusted Five implicitly.

Vanya kept being reminded of how he had run at her on that stage, all too ready to kill her.

He had said he would never lock her up, make her take the pills or try to kill her again – he said he loved her. But the words didn't erase the action. And it didn't wash away the fear that perhaps he wouldn't stop the others if they tried to contain or kill her again.

The White Violin refused to let it go and worried away at her, while the real child that Vanya inhabited cried to throw her arms around his neck every time she glimpsed him.

The contrasting urges made her feel like she was being torn apart. With every divergent train of thought the idea would seize her that she should take her pills again, the only guaranteed way to smother that part of her that seemed determined to spill blood. Even the blood of the only people she cared about.

In her restless nights, thinking about the destruction she had wreaked, her imagination largely rested on the crimes she had committed against her family. The billions of others were only a brief registration in her mind and Vanya hated that the White Violin cared so little about them if their deaths brought her the revenge she so wantonly craved. Her own death didn't even seem to matter; the powerful creature within seemed to have no limits to her bloodlust.

And yet, there were times the power seemed ethereally beautiful to her. When the energy coursed through an instrument, as the more positive emotions flowed out of her, during her more brilliant moments when everything aligned and Vanya felt like she could do anything now that the scales had been lifted from her eyes. Even the glow that settled over her skin looked akin to starlight, making her beam from the inside out. But it didn't erase the danger she could become when the bitterness took over.

She had no reason to feel jealousy anymore and yet she did, pitifully so. Before when her siblings' went on missions she felt pain and abandonment, the anguish solely directed at her own sense of ordinariness, _worthlessness_. Now there was the indignation – she was more powerful than all of them combined. How was it right _she_ was the one left on the sidelines when Klaus, who had only managed projection once and otherwise made no contribution to the missions, could still go? And Luther? He could bend a pipe with his bare hands; did that make him fit to be their leader? Vanya could bring buildings down with her mind.

And it was those thoughts that made her so adamant that the others couldn't know that she remembered. No matter how passionately Five argued otherwise. She couldn't risk being provoked, not when she was accidentally shattering mirrors out of frustration just because her bangs wouldn't lie flat.

Five kept telling her that the Umbrella Academy needed to work together to come up with a plan about the Commission and the apocalypse, but Vanya didn't understand why they were waiting for her to do that. It wasn't like her opinion had ever mattered. Not when they were children deciding where to go on their excursions. Not when they were adults deciding whether to deactivate Mom.

Besides it was Five who would decide, he was the only one who knew their enemy. Number Seven knew he would do the right thing. Number Seven trusted him and she would have to fall in line with his decision, even if she tore herself apart trying to stay in control.

Cautiously, Vanya searched Five's eyes as she came to stand by his side. He nodded in what she supposed was intended as a reassuring gesture.

Reginald was flipping ahead in his journal, looking for a blank space. "Well, Number One. Since Number Five refuses to attempt teleportation with anyone except Number Seven, you may join Number Three and Four for now. Oversee the rotation of sparring partners while I monitor Number Five's progress."

"Yes, Father." Luther said, casting a worried glance at Five before walking over to the others. He went over to Klaus, encouraging him to stop and catch his breath for a moment instead of trying to keep up with Allison.

"Number Five, try a spatial jump of ten feet."

Five looked up at Reginald unimpressed. "I jumped further with Seven than that last week."

"Be that as it may," Reginald replied, not even looking up from his notes to acknowledge Five's scowl, "today we will start with ten feet. If you manage that we will then increase the distance incrementally."

Vanya laid a hand on Five's arm, drawing his attention to her before he could think to retort.

"You ready?" He asked with a raised eyebrow, the irritation still clear in his eyes.

She nodded in return. While she wasn't thrilled that she would undergo another jump with Five, at least he had given her advanced notice this time.

He held out his hand and Vanya took it, sidling closer to his side. Once he had a firm grasp on her he jumped.

Again it felt like her surrounding atmosphere had just had the air sucked out of it by a vacuum, her body feeling incredibly light as they squeezed through space together – it felt like her brain wasn't getting enough oxygen. Five smushed against her until they finally broke apart, landing exactly ten feet from Reginald.

Five seemed unbothered by the journey while Vanya wobbled on the spot, feeling like she had been on a boat for nine hours and emerged with land sickness. He kept a hold of her hand while she regained her equilibrium, not pushing her to speak.

Reginald focused on Five as he began his questions, only turning to her after a few minutes to ask for a description of how she felt after jumping.

"A little dizzy." Vanya muttered, glad Five was willing to relax his strict rules on personal space to help keep her upright.

Reginald mumbled unhappily. Of course he would consider the dizziness to be her fault, rather than a symptom _anyone_ would experience after spatial jumping. "We will increase the distance. Twenty feet."

"Thirty." Five countered.

"Twenty feet, Number Five."

Sighing, Five dropped her hand in favour of looping an arm around her waist to better help her stand. Neither one doubted that her symptoms would only get worse the more they jumped.

Staggering as they landed again, Vanya felt her stomach roll but clamped down on the nausea before she could be sick. While Reginald made notes, Five rubbed her back and Allison walked over to offer her some water.

Taking a tentative sip, Vanya returned Three's bottle with a shy smile which Allison readily returned. But she had to cut the moment short to lay a hand over Five's, stopping the circling motion: "Sorry, but it's just making me feel sicker."

"Take deep breaths." He instructed, keeping their conversation quiet although Vanya doubted Reginald cared enough to listen closely. "I used to get this all the time when I first jumped, it'll help with the dizziness. And ginger helps with the sickness – I told Mom to get some ready for after training."

"You knew we were doing this?"

"Yeah, I insisted."

Vanya's eyes snapped to him with the admission, but Reginald interrupted them before she could say anything else.

"Forty feet."

Five couldn't resist saying: "Not thirty?"

"You wanted to go further." Reginald deadpanned, thoroughly unamused.

"Forty feet." Five replied with a pointed grin, pulling Vanya closer then jumping to the next marked point.

She slapped a hand over her mouth as they landed.

"Breathe through your nose."

Nodding, Vanya tried to follow his advice.

"Sixty." Reginald said without pause. Vanya wanted to make his head explode to give him a semblance of how she felt with every jump.

"Two-hundred." Five replied and the next thing Vanya knew they were in the downstairs toilet where the toilet seat had helpfully been left up.

"Sorry," he said as he held back her hair, "I know the further we go the longer the feeling lasts but, even if we only travelled another twenty feet, I knew you would be sick so I figured it was better to jump here."

"Why are we jumping at all?" Vanya coughed, her mouth now dry and rancid. She flushed the toilet, eager to remove the lingering smell of vomit.

"I always said I would jump with you. And even if I jumped with fifty other people before you the jump-sickness would still affect you. It's just something you have to get used to."

"How much time?" She groaned, pushing herself up from the floor. Heading for the sink she washed her mouth out under the faucet.

"Days? A few weeks? Months? Maybe never." Five shrugged, also standing up. "I'm the only one who has ever done this before and I'm exerting energy during each jump, which you're not – you can't use me as a benchmark. Only time will tell."

"We'll be jumping for months?"

"Yes."

Vanya sighed in resignation. "Why? It's not like when we were kids – we both know we can't run away like we planned to. You said it yourself, it'll tip off the Commission. We have to stay here. As depressing as that sounds."

"We stay here _until_," Five stressed, "they realise this is where we are. When that day comes – and it will – we need to be ready to get the hell out of here."

"What makes you think they will figure it out?" Vanya asked suspiciously.

"Well I think me not appearing in the apocalypse this year will be a big tip off."

"I hadn't thought of that." She said blankly. How had she not thought of that? Five disappearing and Ben dying. Those were, unfortunately, the milestones of her childhood.

"And that's why I'm the smart one."

Vanya ignored the barb. "What are we going to do?"

"Practice joint spatial jumping." Five intoned, as if he were stating the obvious.

"Well what about everybody else?"

"What about everyone _else_?" He asked impatiently.

She frowned at him. "Well we'll all need to escape, are you going to practice jumping with all of us?"

"The rest of them can just deal with it. Or hot-wire a car." Five shrugged.

She crooked an eyebrow at him, still waiting for the real reason they were doing this. If they were in a life-or-death situation Five would not hold back out of concern she'd feel a little sick afterwards.

They stared at each other until Five groaned. "Fine. I know you always wanted to take part in training so I thought this would make you happy."

Vanya felt her lips tug upwards into a bemused smile. "You thought making me puke would make me happy?"

He paused before saying: "Well sure, when you put it like that it sounds stupid."

She laughed and was pleased to see he smiled in return.

"And we will jump further. Although a beach could be a bit too far. I might be able to find a lake though."

"You remember that?" Vanya asked, her face feeling warm. She remembered sitting with Five, talking about the places they wanted to go. He would make suggestions and Seven would readily agree – as long as it was away from the Academy and Five was with her, she wasn't all that fussy.

"Yeah – you wanted somewhere with a lake, and mountains," he said, ticking the criteria off on his fingers, "trees, an open space, and it had to be quiet. I know you wanted to practise your violin there but I think soon we will have to find a better space for you to use your powers. And somewhere far away from other people strikes me as a good idea – for now, anyway."

Vanya nodded in agreement. "I know I do. Although I think I've gotten better at moving objects on purpose."

"Telekinesis." Five supplied, explaining: "The power to move things with your mind is called telekinesis. Show me."

Glancing around the small toilet, Vanya spotted some folded towels on the shelf. Now she needed to pick a sound to use – something soft. The louder and faster a sound she used the more destructive her powers became. Focusing, she expanded her range of hearing to the surrounding rooms.

Five stared at her, surprised that she had closed her eyes. "What are you trying to move?"

"I'm not trying to move anything yet, I'm still choosing a sound."

He resisted the urge to scrutinize that statement, not wanting to sound too similar to their Father by launching into a series of dissecting questions, only offering a suggestion. "Could you use my voice?"

"No, it's not a constant noise." She explained. "I think I'll use the sound of the traffic outside."

"You can hear the traffic outside?" Five asked curiously.

"Shh." Vanya replied impatiently, tuning everything out except her chosen sound. When the noise filled her ears, she reopened her eyes and turned her attention to the towels. Focusing intently, trying to use her powers with her mind rather than her heart, she pulled at them with her will and the small pile slid off the shelf and into the air.

She allowed it to hover for a moment before replacing them.

It frustrated her that such a small act made her feel tired afterwards. She hadn't felt remotely that way when she'd brought down the Academy the other month, if anything the destructive act had energised her. But then it hadn't been Vanya in control of that; the White Violin had completely taken over by that point.

She liked to think it. Whether she was always convinced was another matter.

"That's good, Vanya." Five said. "So how far can you hear exactly?"

Above them a pilot was asking his co-pilot what his plans were for the weekend. He was throwing a barbeque for his daughter's birthday and he invited the pilot to come along if she wasn't busy.

How high did planes fly? Five or six miles?

"Far." Vanya replied unsurely and warily. "I'm not sure what my distance limit is though."

"Doesn't that get overwhelming?"

Her sharp upwards exhalation blew the bangs away from her forehead. "Sometimes. Most of the times I can just select what I want to hear. It's like I'm aware I _can_ hear things that are far away, but I don't hear them properly unless I focus on it. And then I can use the sounds to different effects."

"The others were right – we need to get Dad's notebook."

"The others said that?" Vanya worried. Why did they want the notebook? Were they looking for a way to overpower her?

"Ven, it's fine." Five said, laying a hand on her arm. "We thought it would help you understand and develop your powers."

"They know my powers are back?"

"Vanya, _chill_." Five instructed, taking a pointedly deep breath – encouraging her to emulate him. "They don't know anything. _Literally_. I don't think they know _anything_. Their stupidity is alarming sometimes."

She breathed as instructed, glancing at the still closed bathroom door. Five followed her gaze.

"He's probably looking for us." He said, voicing aloud their shared thought.

"We should go then."

Five still kept a hold of her. "We're talking again later. We need to talk more."

"Is talking part of 'Plan: Fix Vanya' or are you starved of adult conversation." Vanya scoffed.

"You can laugh, but I swear mentally they never aged past thirteen."

She stood still for another minute, always reluctant to return to Reginald's presence.

"Okay. Let's go."

Five opened the door for her and they walked back to the training room, expecting a lecture which Reginald didn't fail to provide.

"I said fifty feet."

"I knew Seven would be sick, so I aimed for a bathroom. It's a good job I did too, or you might have ended up with vomit on your shoes." Five said unapologetically.

"Seven, are you all right?" Allison asked, overhearing Five's words. She immediately stopped sparring with Ben, who in turn quickly dropped his own arms.

"Return to your assigned task, Number Three."

"Yes, Father." She said, while still shooting Vanya a concerned look.

"Number Seven, you are no longer required here. Return to your lessons."

"Yes, Father." Vanya replied dutifully, taking her leave.

Grace was hovering by the door to the training room, some ginger biscuits on a small plate which she offered once she saw Number Seven. Taking a cautious bite, she was happy that they settled well on her still turbulent stomach.

Vanya returned upstairs as she still had math exercises to complete from yesterday's lessons with Grace. Having journeyed back in time, she had expected lessons to be a breeze, however it turned out that a lot of the material covered in their classroom lessons had little to no application in adulthood, and Vanya had subsequently forgotten most of it – particularly the topics covered in their science and math classes. At least Five still knew everything, although he was having a hard time watering down his advanced knowledge to resemble that he possessed at thirteen. Apparently he had spent a lot of his time in her post-apocalyptic wasteland studying and complained that Grace's idea of 'advanced calculus' was infantile.

Still, he would always help if she got stuck with a problem. He even tried to bite down on his more scathing remarks as he did. Although, if she asked him to help with her homework for too long, he would eventually crack and make some kind of cutting comment about her intelligence. She never took them seriously – then again she never had. It was just a part of Five's personality and, as she was well aware he was an actual genius, Vanya could understand how frustrating the lack of intellectual stimuli could be. She imagined it was similar to how she had felt guiding her young students through painful renditions of Jack and Jill or Itsy Bitsy Spider. One could only be patient for so long before the cracks showed.

Finally the Umbrella Academy returned upstairs from training to freshen up for lunch.

It must have been Ben's turn on the babysitting rota, as he poked his head around her bedroom door not long afterwards.

"Hey, Ven. You busy?"

"Just working on some trig problems." She replied, not looking up from her book.

Ignoring her lack of engagement he entered the room.

"Do you want help, I finished mine yesterday?" Ben offered up hopefully.

"Err, all right. I guess." Vanya said, shuffling uneasily in her seat.

Ben came and sat on the empty part of her desk, which Vanya kept clear for those times Five sat there when he was making notes and decided he needed a change of perspective. He would often progress from sitting somewhere normal, like the bed or her chair, to some place strange, like the desk or the top of her wardrobe. One of these days she expected to find him hanging upside down from the ceiling like a bat, hoping the directional change in blood flow would help to jumpstart his brain.

He looked down at her worksheet and talked her through the equations she was stuck on. Within ten minutes he had helped her finish most of the remaining problems and Vanya had even forgotten that she had felt uncomfortable until Ben's hand brushed hers as he reached for the eraser.

Vanya dropped her pencil.

"You okay?"

"You know, it's getting close to lunch. I'll just finish this later. I want to clean up."

"Are you sure, you're almost done?" Ben said, startled as she jumped up from her chair.

Humming lightly in response, Vanya waited until he cautiously left the room. Gently shutting the door behind him she let her legs falter beneath her and slid down to the floor. Her hands clenched tightly, trying to stop herself from reliving the feel of Ben's living hand on hers.

Pressing her lips together she repressed a cry and breathed until she felt somewhat stable.

Feeling everything so strongly was exhausting at times, and it only worsened the longer the gaps got between her doses of 'medicine'.

When Ben had died she had verged on catatonia for months, and that was when she was _on_ her pills.

Ben's death had been a real punch in the gut. When Five disappeared it felt like her world had been turned upside down, and only Ben seemed to appreciate how deeply Vanya missed him – how lost she felt without her best friend around anymore, almost as if she had lost an extension of herself. The rest of them never understood that. She wasn't a part of the team, wasn't a part of the bond that could only be found amongst brothers in arms, so why should she miss him? They had the same attitude when Ben died – except Klaus, but by then he was battling his own demons and neither one of them had been able to help the other.

Now he was here again, back with her for the first time in over ten years – barring a hazy memory of him at the concert. Something she still didn't understand.

With his reappearance a lot of suppressed emotions now had to be addressed, the best of which was barely contained delight. The worst brought her to her knees and made her feel like she would never get up again.

It might ease if she could finally talk to Ben about his death. It was something she imagined he was still trying to process himself. But she couldn't, not yet. Ben was her closest sibling after Five, which meant she knew him all too well. If she revealed her knowledge of the future, he would scarcely make it until the end of the day before telling Klaus who, while well meaning enough, was the biggest blabbermouth in the entire family. Within an hour there would be a family meeting and they'd all question her; needling at her and asking her to make decisions which she couldn't face.

Not today anyway. It would have to be soon though, Five had made that clear enough.

Vanya had decided she wanted to be able to show some semblance of control before shedding the amnesia story, to prove that they could trust again her off her pills.

She'd done it the right way this time; she still took the occasional half a pill and had been carefully monitoring her intake to properly wean herself off them, instead of going cold turkey like Leonard had forced her to.

Five had told her of his siblings' plans to jog her memory and, knowing them, their patience for this plan to be enacted wouldn't last forever. Sooner or later one of them would take it upon themselves to tell her, thinking Five wasn't up to the task, and ruin her much needed peace.

The underlying hilarity of the situation didn't escape her. How long had she craved attention from her extraordinary siblings? Now she had an unlimited supply and was scorning them.

Running a brush through her hair, Vanya straightened her jacket and pulled her socks up before hurrying downstairs.

"Hi V-Ven." Allison said, catching herself as she tried to use her adult name rather than her number. They were lucky her old nickname started with the same letter. As the only sibling to have a two-vowel name, she had been the only one to have a nickname derived from the number. Of course everyone else eventually got cool, well thought out codenames; the Kraken, the Rumour, Space-boy. Vanya got Ven, and then V. Although she always thought V better suited Five; it was his roman numeral after all.

"Hi Three." Vanya mumbled in response, bending her head down to hide her eyes behind her bangs. She didn't hide enough to miss Five's unimpressed stare; he kept telling her she was overacting.

"Hey, Seven. I could hear you practising this morning – you're great at the piano. _Surprisingly_ good really. Given you've only had it for a week." Klaus said thoughtfully.

"What do you expect, she's a musical genius?" Ben retorted.

Her cheeks turned pink no matter how much she willed them not to, unused to altruistic praise. Usually they only complimented her when they wanted something. Well technically they did now – they wanted her to not end the world.

"Well I already know how to read music, that helps." She deflected.

"So what lecture do you think it will be this time?" Diego asked the room, fidgeting with his tie.

"As long as it's not another botany lecture, I don't care." Allison said. "I nearly fell asleep in my oatmeal this morning."

"Why did we even have to listen to that?" Klaus groaned.

"In case we're ever stuck somewhere and have to forage for food." Five replied, silencing the room.

Reginald entered, heading for the gramophone to put on another record. It was about finding water. He was obviously in a survivalist mood today.

They all took their seats and started their midday meal. One of the limited advantages of repeating their childhood was Grace's cooking. Vanya had forgotten what it was like to get three square meals a day. Sometimes she forgot to eat and cooking proper food felt like a waste when she was the only one there to eat it.

Today, Grace had made soup and sandwiches. Each sandwich was different depending on the child – although she had the sense not to give Five peanut butter and marshmallows under Reginald's nose. He was having to settle for chicken and bacon.

After lunch they had an hour of shared English lessons before they separated again; the six returning to training while Vanya switched to the music portion of her lessons, sometimes led by Grace and other times left to her own discretion. She now conducted this mainly in her makeshift music room upstairs, where her violins had joined the baby grand piano. Vanya was already optimistically coming up with ideas for future instruments which could join her collection. She quite liked the idea of trying the drums, however she thought with Reginald she was more likely to be given something traditional like a clarinet or saxophone and made that her next goal.

Although her confidence in her musical talents had grown greatly since she had started weaning herself off the pills, Vanya was considering a different career in the future. Still within the field of music, but perhaps as a composer or conductor this time. Which would require her to know how to play multiple instruments.

She'd already progressed from classic nursery rhymes and standards to the more simple classical pieces on the piano. Today it was a simplified version of Beethoven's Für Elise. Once she could advance onto more technical pieces, she hoped she could convince Reginald to give her another challenge. After all, she had plenty of time during the day to occupy.

Or perhaps she could try to learn another language. She'd been the only sibling to study a foreign language in childhood. Grace provided her with French lessons as part of her individual curriculum, designed to keep her busy while everyone else learned other (and, at the time she considered, more interesting) skills.

Either way she needed more stimulation. She refused to spend another childhood with nothing to do except stare at the walls once she finished her lessons, while her siblings were busy or out on missions, and her hands too raw to continue playing.

She spent an hour on the piano before switching back to the violin, having dug out the score for Boccherini's String Quintet.

After another hour it was time for her self-scheduled power practice so she returned to her bedroom, the door shut firmly behind her. Five had helped Vanya figure out where the camera was in her room and on some days she positioned her music stand to block its view, however she couldn't do that too often without rousing suspicion. So she focused on testing her hearing range today. She was curious how far she could go. Ideally she needed one person to centre in on, and send them to increasing distances to test her limits, however for now she could only lay with her eyes shut and try to project.

She took settled down on her bed, linking her hands over her stomach.

A pair of raised snapping voices soon caught her attention. A couple was arguing over what flavour ice cream to buy.

Her first thought was that the conversation was taking place on the street outside the Academy building and she was amused by the length of their argument – couldn't they buy both – but after honing in on the sounds surrounding the pair, she realised it was actually taking place at a bodega four blocks away. They were funny to listen to, and she stayed with them for a while before pulling back, allowing their voices to drop back into a background hum.

Vanya continued probing her surroundings.

Three blocks away someone was wrestling with a leaky pipe, arguing with their roommates about what to do. Water was leaking onto the carpet and it terrified them that it might drip in the downstairs unit. But if they called the landlord, he might realise they'd caused the damage after attempting chin-ups while holding onto the pipeline.

Two blocks away a lady was talking to herself as she puttered around the empty house.

One block away a dog had been left at home for too long and was whining for his owners to return. It was infuriating their neighbour who was debating calling animal control; they always left the dog alone for too long. He reasoned that it wasn't fair on the dog. Or him.

The dog's whining was too high pitched and Vanya pulled away from it, recognising it as one of the sounds she utilised during her more destructive activities.

It was all so overwhelming and comforting. The sheer amount of noise sometimes felt like too much, yet it reassured the White Violin that she could hear everything around her and know what everyone was up to. The sounds were also her readily available weaponry, floating around ready to be exercised in whatever manner she chose.

The seeming limitlessness to her powers was terrifying. And thrilling.

Mostly terrifying. But also quite thrilling.

Currently she was working the hardest to perfect her telekinesis and hearing, however Vanya was aware there was far more she could do. She could project sound waves, influence people with her music, manipulate the weather, project bursts of white energy and trap people in streams capable of sucking the life from their bodies. For all she knew there was even more she could do, but she wasn't willing to explore that until she felt like she had the powers she knew about under some level of control.

The weather was what she wanted to work on next. When she got frustrated, she knew she could make it rain, but she wasn't sure how yet. And in the forest with Leonard she had used the sound of a far-off river to whip up the surrounding winds, almost taking the trees down with her.

Scrunching her nose she tried not to dwell on the details of that memory. She didn't like to think of anything involving him. But she was curious what other weather phenomena she could conjure. Snow? Ice? Sunshine? _Lightening_? Lightening could be fun. Klaus had been a big X-Men fan growing up and, when he let Vanya borrow his comics, she had grown to like Storm.

But that was for another day.

Allowing the noises outside to fade into her periphery, she focused on the sounds coming from within the building hoping to find some solace in her family's presence – as much as the White Violin despised labelling them as such. The patter of their feet and hushed whispers of conversation always helped to reassure her they were here and not laying dead under the rubble.

Her siblings must have finished training, or Reginald had dismissed most them, as she could hear them across several rooms instead of their voices being confined to one.

In his room down the corridor Luther was attempting, but failing, to comfort Allison about Claire. Her loss was still something Allison struggled with every day. She clearly wanted to fix her past mistakes, but she also knew without committing those mistakes Claire would never exist. Luther understood. Except he couldn't. Vanya guessed none of them ever would.

Klaus was still suffering through withdrawal. Even though his body didn't know it needed drugs, his mind did, and he was warring with himself. She could hear him pulling strands of hair between his fingers, roughly enough that a few were ripped out.

Ben was experiencing a growth spurt and was ecstatic about it, trying to distract Klaus' painfully obvious suffering with exclamations of how tall he was now. He tried to include Klaus in the moment by asking him to measure his new height. It wasn't working but Vanya knew Klaus would appreciate Ben's efforts all the same.

Diego was still with Reginald. He was practising holding his breath in a bath in one of the guestrooms while Pogo timed him. Grace was hovering nearby in case any first aid needed administering.

Five was – Five was standing in her bedroom doorway. Her eyes shot open, surprised he had been able to sneak up on her while she was allowing her senses such free rein.

Naturally if he had teleported there would have been fewer stimuli to warn her but, even as he stood motionless, now that she was focused on him she could hear his heartbeat, the tick of the watch on his wrist and the flowing of blood around his veins. He was still worked up from training, the blood was moving too fast around his body. Maybe she was getting too comfortable around him, her body not even considering him a threat to monitor.

Once he saw he had her attention he entered the room, reclosing the door to discourage anyone from disturbing them.

"How was training?" She asked, raising herself up on her elbows.

Five rolled his eyes. "_Easy_. How was yours?"

"Fine. I think my playing is getting good. It still needs a lot of work though."

"Not the piano," Five scoffed, "your powers."

Vanya shushed him.

"Oh relax, _they_ don't have super hearing – you're fine. So?"

"I'm at around four blocks." She answered, laying back down.

"Do you think you can go further?"

"Yes."

"A lot further?"

She thought about that before answering. "_Yes_ – if I had something specific to focus on. But I'm not sure how far. Not without a proper test."

Five nodded, picking up her desk chair and bringing it to her bedside. He sat down and put his feet up on her bed. "Do you think you can use your other powers on people if they're far away?"

Vanya didn't have to push herself hard to find Pogo again. He was standing above the bathtub telling Diego that he needed to stay underwater for another minute to beat his old record. She could hear his calm heartbeat, melodically beating away under his ribs. Unperturbed by what he was doing to them. From here she could stop it; she knew she could stop it.

"Yes."

"How far?"

"I still don't know, Five." Vanya sighed, turning onto her side so she could both look at him and stop his shoes from digging into her ribs. "It's not exactly something I'm racing to practise."

Five thought quietly for a moment and Vanya thought that was it, expecting him to pull out his notebook and continue scribbling ideas down about whatever it was he was working on now. That's what he usually did in their quiet moments together.

After a few moments he said: "I'm not like Dad. I won't make you do anything you don't want to. He did that to all of us. Forcing Ben to kill. Making Klaus communicate with the dead even though he knew they terrified him. He made Allison rumour you, he's forcing Diego underwater. I won't let that happen to you – not again." Five said confidently. "But I don't want you to fear your powers. You should know what you're capable of. You'll be less scared of them if you do."

It was Vanya's turn to lapse into silence, turning his words over in her head.

He was touching on a battle she fought every day with herself. The urge to unleash every iota of power within her, followed by a frantic hand snatching at her pill bottle.

"I want to take them one power at a time." Vanya said. "It feels more manageable like that. And I think it helps – being more logical in the approach. My powers are too connected to my emotions, and when my emotions spiral out of control so do they." She laughed humourlessly. "I wish I was more like you."

"Logical?" He asked, unimpressed.

"A pragmatist." Vanya countered. "I think everything would be so much easier. And everyone would be safer, if I could just be more practical."

"I'm not that much of a pragmatist." Five sighed, pausing as a look of unexpected disgust flickered across his face. "If I was..."

"What?" She pushed when he lapsed into another round of silence.

"If I _was_," he forced out through a tautening jaw, "I would have left your consciousness in the apocalypse and killed you as soon as we travelled back. When you were powerless – when you were Number Seven. My best friend, who never stood up for herself no matter how much I tried to get her to. Number Seven who I could have approached with a knife in my hand and still would have opened the door for me. Seven would never even _try_ to stop me if I explained that it was the only solution. Not that she could stop me." He frowned.

"It always infuriated me, you know. That Dad never trained you. Not because I wanted you to go on missions – I _never_ wanted you to go on missions. I didn't even want Klaus on missions, not without a power that could be used offensively or defensively. Ben always worried about him when he was there, keeping an eye on him to make sure he didn't take on anyone too powerful. I didn't want that with you – it would put both of us in danger. It wasn't safe, and I never wanted to see you get hurt like the rest of us did. But as soon as we went public the Academy became a target, and I always worried when we were away that someone would attack and you would have no way to protect yourself. I tried telling the old man that all the time, that you at least needed to know how to throw a punch and fire a gun but he was always so adamant you couldn't learn that. I guess I know why now – he wanted you to be as defenceless as possible because you scared him.

"You don't know how much of a relief it was, finding your book. To know that you were all right after I left." He finished, his face still contorted into a grimace.

"Physically." She amended.

"I think it was a foregone conclusion we'd all be leaving here with mental scars. Whether or not I was here."

"It would have been easier if you were here." Vanya admitted, even though she knew that confession would hurt him. "For me anyway. We all had someone – One and Three. Four and Six. Two had Grace, and he was close to Four. I had you and then you were gone."

He grabbed her hand then, almost desperately. His skin was clammy and cold.

"I'm sorry I left. I'm sorry I left without you."

She looked at him. He'd apologised before, for leaving without saying goodbye. This apology meant more.

"I'm sorry that because of me you were stuck in a desolate wasteland." She said thickly, swallowing back a rising tide of tears. Five had always hated it when she cried. He still hated it, perhaps even more now.

"I will be here – I _want_ to be here with you."

Vanya frowned. His tone was too fraught, there was a condition behind that promise. "But?"

"I think I still need to time travel."

Numbly, she snatched her hand back. For one brief flicker of rage she felt like slapping him with it.

"Listen to me." Five said, his tone suddenly level and calm. Vanya hated it.

"_Yes_?" She replied waspishly.

Pushing herself up she leant against their shared wall, crossing her arms securely across her chest.

Five heaved a sigh at her defensive position but didn't call her out on it.

"If I don't go into the future, it will alert the Commission that someone has compromised our early timeline. They have to already be looking for us. If I don't turn up in the apocalypse, I might as well stick a giant neon sign over our heads saying '_here we are, right here, come and get us_'."

"What can they even do?" She retorted. "If they come near us, I'll just...rip their skins from their skeletons. Or something."

She could tell her uncharacteristically violent threat amused Five, but he pressed ahead with the topic at hand.

"Look, if everything goes to plan there won't even be an apocalypse. I'll just be stuck in 2019 – and I'll have to wait until you catch me up. Sure, they'll still know something's happened to the timeline. But they'd have to examine the whole timeline to figure out where the change has occurred and that will buy us valuable time. Time for you to practice your powers, time for the others to get their shit together."

"If you leave the plan goes to hell, Five." Vanya snapped, feeling furious with them both. Unfortunately her anger had always translated into tears during her childhood years, and she could feel the moisture gathering at the corners of her eyes. Although the vindictive half of her was happy that her tears would make Five more uncomfortable.

"The only way we pull this off is together. I can't _do_ _this_ without you."

"The others will help you."

"No they won't." She said, catching her shrill tone and reducing it to a hissed whisper. "They can barely help themselves!"

"They'll do better this time around."

"No they won't!"

"Ven..."

"Do you have any idea how angry they make me every day?"

"It will be different..."

"I know! That's what makes me _so angry_." She gritted out through clenched teeth, desperately trying to keep her voice from rising into a scream. Not with everyone so close.

"Every time they try to include me in games, every time they ask my opinion, or give me a compliment. Whenever Allison offers to do my hair or Klaus asks to paint my nails – you know what I think?" She didn't wait for a response. "Seeing them act that way? It shows it _could_ have been this way the first time around. They just didn't care enough about me to try!"

Her anger vanished then and without it she felt that hollowness she still loathed, despite it being her only true companion in life.

The tears spilt over and she crumpled into herself, trying to hide her shameful outburst from Five's weary eyes.

"Vanya?" Five breathed after a moment, watching her shoulders rise and fall with the powerful, shuddering sobs that had overtaken her. "Seven?"

He drew his legs back so he could rise from the chair, moving to sit beside her on the bed.

"It's not that simple. Our childhood was _never_ that simple. You know that. You know what conditions we were all living through – I know you do. It was all there in your book. You were the only one to ever admit that our childhood was fucked up – the rest of them were just kidding themselves."

Brushing the hair back from her face, where it was sticking to her skin, he tried to meet her eyes but her head stayed buried in her knees.

"We were all just trying to survive."

"I know." She croaked out. "It still hurts though."

Five watched her for a minute, feeling helpless and resigned about what he had to do.

Curling an arm around her back, having to wrangle it to get between her and the wall, he linked his other arm under her bent knees and pulled her onto his lap. He tried to curl around her as much as possible, difficult given at this age they were both the same height.

Vanya instantly tried to cocoon herself into him, grateful for the security his hug gave her. With his arm around her back she finally felt the tension that remained in it all day ease away, knowing that in this moment someone was watching it for her. No one could sneak up on her here, Five wouldn't let them.

He rocked her as she still choked out her tears, which felt too hot against her cheeks. Her bangs were plastering themselves to her forehead, and she knew, when she emerged, she would make a frightful sight.

At that moment she couldn't bring herself to care.

Despite initiating the contact she could tell Five was slightly uncomfortable with the embrace, unsure where to rest his hands. He alternated between rubbing her back, brushing her hair out of her eyes and at one point awkwardly patting the top of her head. She would have to part from him soon, for the sake of his sanity.

"Thank you, Five." Vanya said, still clinging to him. Her voice was clearing although her eyes were still wet. "I promise I'll let go soon, I just need another minute."

"It's okay, Ven. I've got you." He replied, patting her shoulder this time.

Chuckling lightly, Vanya pulled away. Keeping her head tilted down, she wiped her face dry with her hands until Five offered her his handkerchief. She only ever seemed to see it when he was handing it to her after a crying fit, she thought dryly. He probably carried it solely for her crying outbursts.

"Here, I have something for you." She blurted, tilting her head back up once she felt she looked human again. Of course there was no need to feel self-conscious, Five didn't look much better for wear. His collar was damp and Vanya felt vaguely mortified that she had sniffled on someone as unflappable as Five.

Clambering off the bed, she motioned for him to stand up too.

She moved to lift the mattress before hesitating, feeling the weight of the camera on her back.

Five wordlessly moved to stand directly in front of it and, after offering him half a smile of thanks, she bent to dig out her notebook.

"Here."

Taking the black covered exercise book, Five looked at it with interest. "Is this one of mine?"

"Yeah, sorry about that. I never had any spare stationary, so I took one of yours when you were in training." Vanya apologised.

"I didn't notice." Five said curiously. "Well you can keep it, I don't mind."

He tried to offer it back, but Vanya pushed it back into his chest. "No – read it. But promise me you won't let anyone else see it."

"All right."

She could tell he wanted to read it now but dinner was fast approaching and Vanya was keenly aware that her face needed a wash and her bangs needed combing. Five would probably have to change his jacket too, she thought with a grimace. There were days she really couldn't understand why he chose her to be his best friend growing up.

"I'll see you at dinner."

"Okay – see you soon." Five said, hesitating by her door. He settled for patting her shoulder again, which Vanya patiently endured with a straight face figuring if she openly laughed at him she would never get another hug from him.

Cleaning up, she was joined on the staircase by Allison who had lightly run to catch up with her.

"Hey, are you all right? I thought I heard raised voices coming from your room earlier?" She asked with concern. Allison nearly always sounded concerned when she came to speak to Vanya. It was somehow both heartening and infuriating.

"Oh, Five got excited about some new science theory." Vanya said vaguely. "I didn't understand it but he said it was important."

Whereas before Three would have sighed about how boring Five could be, Allison simply said: "That's nice."

Catching her arm before they got to the dining room, Allison pulled Vanya away towards a little recess. "So, we were all talking sneaking out this Saturday for donuts, like we always..._planned_ to." She caught herself again. "Dad will be away so we figured it was the perfect time to _finally_ go. You'll come right?"

"Five already asked me." Vanya said. Well, asked wasn't the right word. Informed her was more accurate.

"And?"

"You _want_ me to go?" She asked dubiously.

Allison had the grace to look guilty, but her voice held no trace of insincerity. "_Yes_, Seven. I really want you to go. Will you?"

Vanya nodded dumbly.

Allison reach out to squeeze her hand before dragging her back towards the dining room.

Five immediately caught her eye, his own brimming with questions, but it wasn't the place to talk about it.

They didn't get the chance until he snuck into her room just after lights' out, with the notebook cradled possessively to his chest. He took a seat beside her on the bed.

"How?" Was all Five could ask, his tone incredulous with an edge of admiration.

Vanya shrugged. "One beauty of being ignored is that it makes it easier to sneak around."

"You're _amazing_." He whispered in response.

"I was serious though – I want no one else reading that, not yet." She said seriously, watching Five flip open the notebook again even though it was too dark in her room to read.

She had learnt the hard way how valuable the information in Reginald's notebook was. While her duplicate, which she had had to sneak into Reginald's office several times in order to reproduce her own section, had yielded some interesting information which was shaping her training she knew how important it was that no one else find out about it. If even Reginald found it, the result could be disastrous.

"I promise you, no one else is getting _near_ this. I know all the best hiding places in this house, this will be our secret."

"Thank you, Five."

"This could help us save the world, Ven." Five uttered, his teeth gleaming in the muted light coming through her curtains. His smile was genuine.

"I hope so."

Because if she didn't get her powers under control there was only one other course of action she could think of.

"Do you want me to stay tonight?" Five asked.

"No, I'm all right. I'm pretty tired."

"Okay. Well I'm going to keep reading this." He stood up. "And thank you, Vanya. For trusting me with this."

She smiled gently at him though he likely couldn't see it. In a crack of blue he was gone.

Sinking back down into her pillows, she felt her mind wandering in a direction it had been turning towards all day ever since her conversation with Five. Towards an idea she didn't want to contemplate in bed, for fear it would follow her into her dreams.

A soft knock came at the door and Ben quickly entered.

"Hey, Ven. Can I stay here tonight?"

Vanya flipped her blankets back and scooted over. "Sure."

Maybe tonight at least she would be safe, she thought. Shuddering once as Ben settled beside her, she just reassured him she was a little cold, then they both settled in for the night.

* * *

I had someone ask me for more whump in the comments of Experiment 5068. Is this whumpy enough? Let me know! :D I also wanted to expand Vanya's powers and just couldn't resist an X-Men reference as Ellen Page was in it.

So just an FYI, I signed up to do Camp NaNoWriMo next month. I'm not actually writing anything new, I'm just using it to force myself to finish editing my novel and I've set myself an 80,000 word target. (A few people have asked to read it - it's currently on Inkitt and it's called [Blank] Christmas). I'm not saying this series will get no love next month but it might be a few weeks before anything new is posted, but don't worry I'm not abandoning it. The donut scene is coming up, I also want to get Vanya practicing using her bigger powers and then the other siblings will learn her amnesia is fake - and I'm open to other suggestions, although nothing that has been seen a lot in the fandom - I don't want to duplicate anything. I think the show might actually go down the amnesia route as Vanya does lose her memory in the comics after the apocalypse is averted.


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